GreenEyed Woman
by Mister Grimm
Summary: Flower Bud wasn't what Jack had hoped for at first when he escaped there to got to escape a run he had created, because he was finding himself beginning to form another one. One fateful night at the bar seemed to change all of that when he saw her, Karen.


_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story, I'm just the guy that wrote this all. The only character I do own in this story, as of yet, is the dog. The story was tweaked a little as well, but it still holds true to most of the original story for Harvest Moon 64- Just that Jack didn't inherit the farm, he bought it instead. Hope you enjoy, and I'll update as often as I can- But I have other things I might be busy with. Like NaNo 2010.

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**Chapter One: Green Eyed Woman**

Perhaps moving from the big city to the rural little place of Flower Bud Village was the worst decision that I had made over the last few weeks, or perhaps even ever. Nevertheless, here I was, stuck in the village until the end of December, since I probably would not be able to afford a ticket back to the mainland until then. Although, it was still only springtime in this neck of the world, so maybe I was counting my chickens too soon before they even hatched, but that was wishful thinking at best. Hell, I might even come to like this little village over the duration of my stay.

The midday sun was unforgiving and fatigue started to settle into my body after having worked since before the rooster of the nearby ranch had awoken me- with a start might I add. Mornings in Flower Bud were extremely different from those of the big city since there were not any roosters in the city. Normally, back in the city, I would wake up with the aid of my alarm clock; hit the snooze buttons at least three times before oozing out of bed and going about my daily haunt of sleep, eat, work, eat, and finally sleep again.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I was distraught because life on the farm was beginning to look very much the same, just in a different wrapper. I would wake up every morning due to the damned rooster from down the way, pick weeds and clean up the mess that the mayor called a farm- One that an elderly man left to no one when he passed on. A farm, mind you, that he sold me at a dirt-cheap price of whatever I had left over from the ferry here. However, it was strange, this place that is, because it seemed familiar. Familiar, but I just couldn't put my finger on why.

After that, I would tend to my crops - A plot of cucumbers that the town's pair of florists, a mother and daughter pair, and the elder florist's husband, a botanist, had recommended over my initial decision of turnips. They said that in the end, it would be pretty for me, but it was such a shame that I failed to catch their names. I was never one that was good at remembering people's names.

Next, after watering my crops, I would go scavenging through the mountains for anything that looked free for the picking, on the off chance that I would be able to net a little income off it until my crops came in. Sure, it may be wrong of me to do so, but I have to do something until my farm is up and running. Maybe I will stop doing it when I get some livestock, and instead give the things I find in the mountains to the villagers, should I ever get around to greeting them all properly. I am such a horrible neighbor.

Finally, when I am done in the mountains, I return to my farm to drop off whatever bounties of the earth I have managed to gather into my shipping bin and return to clearing the land , my land, of weeds- most of which seemed to grow back everyday, sometimes in greater numbers too. Zack, probably one of the only people that I managed to remember by name, comes around when the sun begins to set to collect whatever is in my shipment bin to sell in the city. He would always poke fun at me for shipping out berries and mushrooms that I gathered from the mountains, but I usually slyly retort with "It's there for a reason, isn't it? It's not like I'm shipping more than I need too."

Eventually, after Zack leaves, I occasionally just collapse onto the ground from exhaustion before scooting over to the nearby doghouse to rest, only waking after the stray dog that seemed to take up residence on the farm before I got there comes to revive me. The dog's tongue would also usually be quite unforgiving in the way its rough texture against my cheek would bring me back to the world of the living. It was mainly the reason I began calling the dog Charon, after the ferryman in Greek Mythology.

The days on the farm generally ended with me hitting the sack, something tagged along by with Charon, since I would grow too tired to move or even care. Today, however, I still had a little fight left in me. Therefore, I thought I should try forcing myself out of the rut that I was slowly beginning to create and decided I should attempt socializing with some of the villagers. With that brilliant idea, I pushed off the doghouse, rose to my feet and brushed off the grime and dirt that caked my clothing: a very dashing set of blue overalls, a white shirt and a blue and orange cap. Okay, maybe I would lose the cap, so I went into my shack and I tossed it to the side along with my rucksack. With how late in the day it was, the only place still open would be the tavern near the town square.

As I made it from my farm to the heart of the village, I could not help but feel energized from the cool breeze that swept over me. The unpolluted air filled my lungs as I took as much of it in as sharply as I could before letting it all out with a pleased noise. The breeze carried with it the songs that the crickets in the distance played and their song buzzed in my ears, drowning out the noise my boots made from walking, and made this blissfully cool spring night even better.

However, the only thing that I needed to get used to was the fact that there had not been a moon out tonight. This made me realize what true darkness was until the lights of the street lamps in the town came into view. "I hope that it is better on the way back," I prayed aloud since the wine I planned on drinking would end up dulling my senses and make me forget how dark it was.

Pushing open the double doors to the tavern, I automatically became distraught at the size of crowd; most of whom I knew only as faces, because of my problem with remembering so many names after only coming to the village not only a week or so ago at most. I slunk around the tavern, found an empty table and settled down onto the chair, waiting to be service. I waited, and waited and hey! Waited some more until I was bored, almost to tears, and there still had been no service. Was it some type of hazing ritual they put newcomers through, or was it just the act of a temperamental barmaid?

So, deciding that approaching the counter might be better, I got up out of my chair and made my way over to the finely dressed tender who was polishing an empty glass. Even without my looking around to confirm it, I could feel the drunken gazes of the patrons looking me over, and struggled not to pay any mind to it.

"Evening stranger," the man behind the counter chimed when he saw me, his eyes dancing with mild amusement at my approach, "What can I get you?"

"It's Jack," I corrected him, "And yeah, can I get a mug of something to drink. Anything hard would do." I just wanted to get out of here now, maybe I could get the alcohol to go and drown myself down at the beach. They say drinking alone is never a good sign, but I had a fishing rod that some man in the mountains had gifted me one day after my arrival, so drunken fishing sounded like fun. I just hoped that I would not end up falling into the ocean and drowning for real, because then that would be just my luck.

"Sure thing, Stranger," the salt-and-pepper haired male mused before amending his response, "Jack, I mean. Something hard to drink, coming right up. Name's Duke."

Nodding, I eased into one of the stools lining the counter and rested my elbows against the hardened surface in front of me. The drunken slurs of a man nearby caught my attention and I turned my head to look. He looked like he was like a wild beast that should have be up in the mountains and his rambling to a few other men around him slurred so badly that it was hard to understand him, but the men around him seemed to have no trouble understanding. Unless they were just nodding their heads and saying mumbled words to make it seem like they knew.

That was when I saw her. First, it was a shock of dirty blond hair, and then I caught the site of her bangs, which were just a shade lighter than the rest of her hair. I had a hard time making out what color her eyes were, but I figured them to be blue. Just to be sure, I hazarded a question to the barkeep as he brought me my drink, "Hey Duke," I started, almost unsure in what I was going to ask exactly, "Who is she?"

"You mean the blonde with the serving tray?" Duke asked with a raised eyebrow. I nodded and he just merely scoffed, "Her name is Karen. If you want to know anything else about her, just go up and ask since it isn't really my place to say."

"Karen," I parroted while the name mulls over in my head as if it should be the only name in the world for me to remember, while forgetting every other one besides it. Oh, I would remember Duke's name too because he told me her name.

"Why not go over and introduce yourself?" the man in purple grinned, hushing a man next to me when he tried to speak up.

I scoffed and shook my head. She looked busy the way it was, and I think I caught her glaring at me while I, well, mentally ogled her because of how stunning she looked compared to all the other girls in the village. The Liberian was cute, but far too meek. The florist seemed like the only thing in the world she cared about was, well, flowers, but that did not mean she was not easy on the eyes either. The rancher named Ann was cute with her ranchers tan and fiery hair and the girl at the bakery seemed to be far too innocent to handle, as sweet as the cakes her father sold, and probably as quick to crumble like them too if you were to hold them above the plate for far too long.

Karen, on the other hand, seemed mysterious and as exotic as the wine they served here, no doubt that the wine here originated from the vineyard she lived. The air she exuded made her feel as if she was rough as well, but in a different sense of the word compared to Ann. Then again, this was all speculation since I knew nothing about her, and I only knew so much about the other girls.

"So are you just content at knowing her name and looking?" Duke asked.

Pursing my lips, I answered him with a light shrug of my shoulders. "I'll introduce myself next time, maybe when she is less busy too." Duke just sighed in response while shaking his head, but I paid him no mind. Taking my glass, I moved away from the counter and saw another man waving me over. I chanced a glance back over my shoulder at Karen just to see that she was facing away from me, before I moved over and joined the men for a conversation that lasted late into the night, but I couldn't help but feel as if someone was staring at me. I just did not bother to look back to see who it was, because soon the conversation turned on me and they began asking me about me. Yay, talking about myself with other people is one of my LEAST favorite subjects.


End file.
